The Bond
Neither of them moved.
Harry’s chest felt lighter, but his mind was still reeling. His hands were still gripping Draco’s tightly, his body unwilling to let go. They were still holding each other, still gripping onto something neither of them fully understood. The rational part of Harry’s brain told him to step back, to get some space. But his body—the Veela in him—refused to listen.
Malfoy was warm against him, steady. Safe.
And he wasn’t letting go either.
Harry felt his pulse quicken, but he couldn’t bring himself to let go either. “It’s the bond,” he murmured, his voice low but firm. “I can’t explain it, but… it’s like everything is pulling me to you.”
Draco’s face was mere inches from his now, his eyes flickering between confusion and something else—something deeper, something Harry couldn’t quite place. He inhaled sharply, as though searching for the right words, but they never came. Instead, Draco’s arms tightened around Harry, pulling him closer.
Draco nodded slowly, his chin resting on top of Harry’s head. How strange, he hasn’t noticed yet how Malfoy changed, but what he could tell was that he too grew much taller. Not only that but he had a much larger and protective figure in a sense. For a long moment, neither of them spoke, simply standing there, wrapped up in each other’s arms. Harry felt a quiet hint of peace settle in him, the kind he had never thought possible. Despite everything, the confusion, the fear, the uncertainty—there was a sense of safety in Draco’s arms, an overwhelming feeling of belonging.
“You’re sure about this?” Draco asked, his voice strained but soft, as if he was trying to avoid letting too much emotion slip through. “About me?”
Harry pulled back just enough to look into Draco’s eyes, searching for any hint of doubt. There was none. Just sincerity and something that looked almost like relief. Harry hesitated, his pride gnawing at him. He didn’t want to sound too eager, too soft. They weren’t ready for that, not yet.
“I… don’t know if I’m ready to call it anything just yet,” Harry said, his voice steady despite the rush of emotions inside him. “But I know you’re… the one I’m supposed to be with. That’s enough for now, don’t you think?”
Draco raised an eyebrow, clearly holding back a retort or some sarcastic remark, but Harry could see the flicker of understanding in his eyes. He let out a short breath, his hand brushing Harry’s shoulder as if reaffirming their connection without saying anything too intimate.
“I suppose ‘the one I am supposed to be with’ is a bit less… romantic than I expected,” Draco said, his voice trying to remain nonchalant but failing to mask the undertone of something more, something that Harry could feel.
Harry smirked, a slight teasing edge in his voice. “Pride, Malfoy. We’ll get to the romantic stuff later, alright?”
Draco gave a small, amused chuckle but didn’t pull away, unwilling to admit how much he actually wanted to stay like this. “Fine. But for the record, this is ridiculous. I can’t believe I’m stuck with you.”
Harry didn’t reply immediately, but the corner of his mouth quivered with a smile, and he stayed close. “You’re lucky, Malfoy. Don’t forget that.”
The sound of footsteps outside the compartment grew louder, but neither of them made a move to separate. They just stood there, wrapped in the bond, unwilling to let go but unwilling to say anything too affectionate, not just yet. Their pride still held them back, even as their bodies and magic screamed for the connection.
Seconds passed. The train lurched forward. The world moved around them. But inside this compartment, there was only this, the rhythmic clatter of the wheels on the tracks filling the air. Harry and Draco didn’t speak, neither of them willing to break the silence.